


Golden Crown and Arches

by sushicorps (Inclinant)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: A ton of swearing, Bad Puns, Crack, Even worse innuendos, Fast Food, Fluff and Crack, Humour, M/M, McDonald AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/pseuds/sushicorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The automatic glass doors make a swishing sound when they open so Eggsy just chimes the usual ‘Welcome to McDonald’s’ in a monotonous drawl when they do so. Then he looks up and gets a good look at the new customer who has just walked in and does a double take behind the counter because what the hell?</p><p>Gentlemen like that don’t go walking into McDonalds at 3am. Gentlemen like that don’t go walking into McDonalds, period.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Crown and Arches

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never actually worked at mcdonalds though but I’ve heard stories so, much liberties were taken, especially with the whole UK context, for Hartwining sake.
> 
> Update: Now part 1 of a series!

It is 3am and there are the usual drunken louts falling over themselves in the plastic seats and the groups of overly noisy teenagers with way too much energy for this time of the day making a ruckus in the corner. Most of them have been there for at _least_ two hours and none of them has ordered anything more than the meagre order placed when they had first entered.

Eggsy has moved from sweeping the floor for the tenth time ever since his shift had started at 10pm to leaning on the counter, propping his head up with an arm, and wiping at it lazily with a rag.

The nightshift is always mind numbingly boring and Eggsy has no idea why they even bothered making the _Maccy D’s_ in this part of London a 24 hour branch, because hell, no business ever gets done during these hours. Frankly, he is just getting paid to stand around and clean up vomit after the drunkards have sobered up a little and left. Most of the time, if he's not cleaning up and rearranging everything in the kitchen for the thousandth time, he is rolling around on the counter trying to find every possible way to fill up the time. He even spent one entire night making messages out of fries at the security camera - _but hey, the guy who reviewed the tapes actually replied him!!!_

He is staring at the fryer and the McFlurry machine and deeply engaged in a furious debate whether turning the former into an explosive device of french fry doom or tampering with the latter to make it backfire on the asshole who comes in on the mornings would be the better option - and also worth potentially getting fired over - when the man walks in.

The automatic glass doors make a swishing sound when they open so Eggsy just chimes the usual ‘Welcome to McDonald’s’ in a monotonous drawl when they do so.Then he looks up and gets a good look at the new customer who has just walked in and does a double take behind the counter because _what the flying fucking **hell?**_

Gentlemen like that don’t go walking into McDonalds at 3am. Gentlemen like that don’t go walking into McDonalds, _period._

The man looks like he just walked straight from the set of Downtown Abbey and everything about him screams posh, like _Queen’s posh_ , from the perfectly slicked back hair to the black oxfords clicking over the floor tiles. He looks old enough to be like, his father or something, but he looks like he made a deal with the devil instead because the years seem to only have gifted his face and damn, it’s _gorgeous_. The expensive looking grey suit that he is wearing is probably something Eggsy would have to work for the next ten years in this damn job to afford, but it don’t really matter because that suit is impressively form-fitting and tapered in all the right places. There is even a black umbrella hanging off the crook of one arm, all dapper and stuff.

Eggsy is torn between thinking he’s finally lost it from the boredom and falling to the floor and kissing it for whatever crazy twist of fate that had decided to literally bring a walking wet dream to his dead end job at three in the morning. Yeah, _yeah,_ he’s always had a thing for blokes, especially older blokes, not that anyone knew that - Dean would probably throttle him and then have him thrown out if he made any of his preferences known, the arse that he is.

He is still gaping when the customer strides up to the corner, confidence and solid assurance rolling off him in waves even though he is clearly so out of place in a fast-food joint. Eggsy can’t help but let his eyes wander a bit even as he clicks his mouth shut because the man looks all sorts of sharp and fit and _hot damn_ in that suit. The deep, warm brown eyes behind the very fetching pair of black frames sitting snugly on the angular lines of his face sweep over the glowing menu over Eggsy’s head and then look down to meet him in a gaze so intense he wants to _swoon._

Eggsy Unwin sure ain't no damsel in distress - not that damsels really needed help getting out of distress in the first place - but the point was, he’ll sure as hell swoon just to get a chance to receive a kiss from a gentleman like that. Yeah, it was starting to sound like a really good ide- _what the hell was he thinking?!_

It’s 3am talking. It’s 3am with way too much time staring up at the blank ceiling playing tic-tac-toe with himself with a mentally drawn grid talking.

He drags his mind back from the gutter that it has all too enthusiastically hopped into and sure as hell hopes that he isn’t _blushing_ because his face is feeling awfully warm. _Nope_ , the small, still rational part of his mind unhelpfully adds, popping the p for emphasis, _it definitely isn’t the fluorescent lights overhead that is causing the heat on your face_ , _yeah **sure** just keep telling yourself that._

“U-uh, _mornin’_ , what would you like?”

“I’m afraid…” The man starts and his voice, _god._ He could probably make a BBC presenter cry with that voice. It’s low and deep and so smooth like satin or something and Eggsy could just slide around in it _allll day. Y_ eah, he knows he’s kind of trippin’ over his heels way too fast, but between juggling three part time jobs just to make the rent and the tuition for his part-time degree, he’s not got much time to think of other... _things_ and a man’s got needs ‘kay. He’ll indulge in this crazy freak occurrence of nature the best he can. It’s probably going to be a onetime thing anyway.

“I don’t frequent.. _.establishments_ of these nature very often.”

 _Establishments._ Eggsy blinks and stuffs down the urge to snort loudly at the choice of wording and the way the man says it, complete with subtle emphasis and all.Cause he must be _joking_ right. It’s not like it’s some strip club or escort agency or something, it’s a fucking _Maccy D’s._

“Kinda guessed,” He quips back, cocking his head a little and leaning forward on the counter. “You don’t look like the sort to come round to places like this.”

He really can’t help it okay - the little smirk growing at the edges of his mouth now is _just. happening_. “ Besides, you don’t have to make it sound so...shady and all. Perfectly safe, clean...artificial…”

Eggsy waves his hands around the fast food joint, with its artificially white fluorescent lighting, plastic tables and chairs, floor tiles actually sparkling, probably from the load of floor cleaner he had had at it…He makes a face. “Pretty damn boring actually. Especially at three in the fucking morning.”

He looks back and the man is staring at him closely, dark eyes pinned on him intently, and Eggsy has no idea why. Then he just nods at Eggsy's words and remarks, “Yes, I suppose it must get rather tiresome at this hour.”

The man transfers the umbrella from his left arm to his right hand and places it beside him, tip clicking firmly on the floor and the entire exchange is done in a single smooth, fluid motion and _wow_. Colour one Eggsy Unwin _impressed._

“In reply to your question, this was the only place open at this hour. Also, I have just returned from a business trip so unfortunately, my pantry is completely devoid of any cooking ingredients…” He says, stepping up to the counter now and resting one elegant hand lightly on the plastic menu that is placed there. “Would you happen to have any recommendations... _Eggsy?”_

For a split second, Eggsy’s mind hops right off its rocker wondering how on earth the man even knows his name and also because his name in _that voice_ , wow he can die happy now, sure thing no problem. Then he realises that he has a damn nametag on his uniform.

Right.

He needs to get a grip.

“Recommendations…” Eggsy drums his fingers along the counter and puts on the act of giving the man’s words some serious thought. “Would you prefer high cholesterol or high blood pressure?”

The man chuckles. “I’m sure I will survive a single... _happy meal_.”

“Great to know ‘cause it’ll be real loss for the world if all that was gone, y'know.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. He has never really been that good at filtering his words because a swift, sharp and filthy tongue is practically a requirement for the crowd he runs with. Fucking _hell,_ that heat on his face is totally a blush now - a right red flush of mortification, that’s what. The man is probably going to be all weirded out and turn right now on his fancy heels and leave just because Eggsy’s a downright idiot-

“I’ll take that into consideration,” says the man and he actually has a small, amused smile on his face and a twinkle in those _very appealing_ eyes.

“Uh...uh right,” Eggsy coughs twice, then frantically waves his hands in a circle about the menu. “Sorry... but seriously though, I haven’t got a clue what to recommend. I eat a shit ton of the stuff here ‘cause I’m staff and all and I know I shouldn’t be putting down the food here, but its fucking macdonalds you know. I don’t think anyone actually walks here with expectations of fine dining so.”

He frowns and makes a face at the sad plastic sheet. “I think the Big Tasty’s not bad though? It’s uh, big….and... tasty?”

 _Wow, A+ description there,_ he groans internally and then his mind unhelpfully wonders about what _else_ might be big and tasty and _woah_ he shuts off that train of thought right there.

The man is somehow managing to keep a straight face in spite of the obvious mess Eggsy is clearly making of himself. Actually, he even looks rather charmed, weirdly enough, and _hey_ , maybe Eggsy hasn’t entirely lost his stuff, he thinks.

“Well, I’ll have that then, thank you very much.”

“Yep, one Big Tasty meal coming right up,” Eggsy keys in the new order into the register quickly, before reciting the amount and reaching out to take the offered cash placed neatly on the counter.He easily pulls out a tray from beneath the counter and stacks it up with the usual stuffs, before whirling around and doing the whole song and dance with practiced ease.

He slips the paper cup beneath the drink dispenser and then turns back to ask casually, “I don’t suppose you need a fork and knife to go along with it? Or I don’t know, a fine wine?”

  
“Actually, I think a good Pinot Noir should go brilliantly with this, so I’ll have that if you please?”

“Sorry mate, only got good old coke here,” Eggsy is grinning now, a shit eatin’ grin so wide he can feel the sides of his mouth aching a little but he’s just had a handsomely gorgeous customer stroll in at three in the morning who’s actually playing along with him. He’s allowed to bask in the moment okay.

He places the drink onto the tray, arranges it all nice and artistically and stuff, before sliding it over the counter. “There, all done. Thank you for waiting.”

"No, thank _you_ ,” The man says and gives Eggsy a little nod, before collecting his tray and leaving the counter. Eggsy pretends to busy himself with cleaning the counter again, but he keeps shooting secret looks to where the man has decided to seat himself. It’s an awfully convenient location actually, because while the table is along the windows at the other side of the restaurant, it places the man just nicely in a good line of sight from where Eggsy is at the counter.

He makes a bizarre sight sitting in the little plastic chair and table set in his suit, unwrapping the burger in slow, deliberate movements and then tucking it into it with neat small bites, occasionally dabbing at the side of his mouth with a napkin. The fries get consumed in a similarly elegant fashion and he even manages to drink from a straw with the ‘air of a gentleman’. How the fuck does one even do that?

When he finally finishes his meal and leaves, the “Thank you and _please_ come again.” Eggsy says is a great deal more enthusiastic than usual and completely sincere for once.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy isn’t really holding out for anything but he does admit to himself that it’s a tad bit disappointing when the fine gentleman from yesterday doesn’t show up again the next day. He knows that it would probably be so, but he really couldn’t help looking up enthusiastically every time the doors opened hoping to catch a glimpse of a fine suit.

Yeah, he is just being stupid.

 

* * *

 

A week goes by and Eggsy is making a tower out of chicken nuggets because they’re just going to get thrown out anyway in the menu change at 4am if no one orders ‘em and heck, it’s already 3.30 in the morning and _no one_ is in the restaurant. The swishing of the doors sound out again and he just looks up in a bored manner, resigned to dealing with whatever crazy soul that has no need of sleep when _oh my **god** the heavens are merciful after all._

He sends the tower, a magnificent masterpiece of 15 carefully balanced nuggets crafted over the better part of an hour, crashing down onto the counter as he jumps to his feet in excitement. Wincing a little, he reaches for the cloth and hastily swipes all the nuggets to the side and then hops over to the register at another end of the counter.

“ _Hey,”_ Eggsy says, pulling a little at his apron and straightening out his shirt which has rumpled a little from being hunched over engrossed in his nugget tower building adventure. ”I wasn’t expecting you to show up again

The man is dressed as impeccably as before, although today he’s in a navy pinstriped suit that wraps around his frame _perfectly_. The umbrella is even still there, hanging off his right arm.

“I’m surprised that you remember me actually.”

“ _Really?”_ Eggsy gestures to all of him a little too enthusiastically. “When you’re going ‘round dressed like that? Not many folks pop into here all fine and dandy in suits and all, you know.”

“Ah…” The man makes a small noise of assent. “Well, that may be true. However, like the last time, I have again had the misfortune of returning from a business trip at a simply ungodly hour and a man should never let his.. _.hunger_ go unchecked.”

The way his voice deepens huskily to emphasise that particular word is doing bad, _bad_ things to Eggsy’s heart. And Eggsy’s mind. And just Eggsy's everything.

“So what is your fine recommendation for today?” He continues without missing a beat. Eggsy freezes for a split second, then flails around a little as he points towards the breakfast menu card that is on the counter as well.

“It’s nearly time for the menu switchover actually, so you can get the morning menu if you’d like.”

“Hmm...I’ll get the Big Breakfast set then. Would it be possible to get a lovely cup of tea to go along with it?”

“For you, _anything.”_ Eggsy says, shooting his favourite customer a conspiratorial wink even as he begins off in the direction of the back kitchen. _“_ I’ll even do it _any way you like._ ”

There is surprise in the man’s eyes, then his look turns cool, calculated and then downright devilish.  “Hmmm, I’ll have my _eggs_ perfectly _creamed_ , thank you.”

Good _lord_.

 

* * *

 

The next time the man comes around is two days later and Eggsy starts up excitedly when he sees his familiar figure, then falters a little at the sight of the companion he has with him. When the tall blonde man, dressed in a sharp beige suit, sees him, a wicked smile grows on his face and he nudges his favourite customer in the side.

"Not bad, _Harry.”_

Eggsy registers that with a note of keen interest - so his mysterious customer’s name is Harry _eh._ It suits him. All prim and proper and stuff.

Harry stoically ignores all of it even as the two of them step up to the counter. The tall, blond man promptly spends half the time he is placing the order hitting on him and hey, Eggsy’s just really bored ok, so he flirts right back _outrageousl_ y. Besides, the man is literally ordering two happy meals just so he can get both the kid’s toys they have for this week (a ray gun and a dart gun) and Eggsy is so terribly amused by it all.

Out of the corner of his eye though, he can see Harry looking slightly irritated at their exchange. Just _slightly,_ because he’s doing a terrific job of concealing it under the smooth, unruffled demeanour but the discontent is present there, at the corners of his eyes.

So when it’s Harry’s turn to place his order, Eggsy just goes straight into the usual routine but before he slides the tray over, he winks and adds, “Don’t worry Harry, you’ll _always_ be my favourite customer.”

The look on Harry’s face is totally worth it.

 

* * *

 

It is 2 in the morning and Eggsy is slumped over the counter, having just finished serving up the insanely large order of fries an overly rambunctious and half-drunk group of young men had ordered after stumbling into the restaurant a few minutes ago. Who the hell even goes and orders twenty large fries at one go man?

He’s on double shifts today. His cheek is still smarting from where he got on the wrong side of Dean this morning and his manager had railed at him for not only coming in late for his shift, but also for being stupid enough to get into a fight and have it _show_ because what are their customers gonna say if he’s going around sporting a shiner like that huh? _Ha,_ as if Eggsy had wanted to get beaten up, _sure._ To make things worse, a group of public school prats had come in earlier that afternoon and had made snide comments and sniggers about him all while they were there.

Suffice to say, Eggsy feels like utter shit.

He is staring at the pink medallion that he is turning around in his fingers to make himself feel better. His mother had told him that it had been personally given to him by a friend of his father’s when he was younger, not that Eggsy can remember it now. He’s had it for as long as he can remember and whenever things go to shit, like now, he likes to take it out and hold it and just _look_ at it because when he does so, it feels like there’s someone out there who will be there for him.

The doors _woosh_ open again and he just barely musters up the strength and motivation to look up when he sees the familiar face in front of him.

“Oh hey-”

The excitement of seeing the other is not quite enough to lift his exhausted demeanour and it’s pretty obvious.

“What happened,” Harry asks in a flat, clipped tone, enunciating the words in a calm but severe manner that seems to hint at danger. His face is blank, but there is clearly displeasure lurking in the corner of those dark eyes. The way his hand grips a little tighter on the handle of his umbrella feels ominous somehow.

"It's nothing," Eggsy says quickly, because it really is nothing. It has been a shitty day but it's not his first and he’ll get through it. There’s really no need to bother Harry.  His words do nothing to dissuade his favourite customer, though, who just leans in to get a better look at him.

The sudden motion surprises Eggsy and hey, he’s never had much of a good track record with sudden movements okay, so he startles and accidentally sends the medal in his hands skidding over the counter. He reaches for it but Harry is faster and a strange series of expressions - confusion, bewilderment, astonishment -passes through his face.

“Where did you get this?” Harry asks in an uncharacteristic rush.

“I don’t know…my mom told me a friend of my dad’s gave it to me when I was younger though, I don’t remember any of it.”

Harry slowly hands him back the medal, brows furrowed and looking like he has been slapped in the face with a fillet-o-fish. This is the first time Eggsy has ever seen him so unsettled and it is actually kind of disconcerting.

He is about to open his mouth to say something when, to his complete surprise, Harry actually reaches out to gently cup the side of his face to lift it into the light. Eggsy tenses up the moment those fingers brush against his skin, breath literally freezing in his throat. Harry just _stares_ at him, studying his face with a mystified expression.

Then his eyes widen as the realisation of what he is doing seems to hit him and Harry hastily yanks his hand back.

“Um…” Harry begin, hand still hovering in the space between them awkward and looking everywhere but at Eggsy. He draws the hand back to his chest, then quickly reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small white tube of cream that he pushes across the counter.

"This will help the bruising. Apply it three times a day on the affected area and it should get better in three to four days."

He doesn't order anything and turns to leave immediately after that, looking deep in thought and leaving Eggsy downright confounded.

The warmth from Harry’s hand still lingers on his cheek.

 

* * *

 

And then Harry _keeps coming back._ Not every day, sometimes every other odd day, and once an entire week goes by before Eggsy sees him again. The point is, he _keeps coming back._ It’s fucking crazy because Harry’s probably some high roller what with him going all around dressed in suits like that and jetting all over the world all the time and totally isn’t supposed to be doing something like this.

Sometimes, he comes along with another man or lady, but they’re always dressed immaculately in a suit as fine as Harry’s own and walk with an air of dominance like they should be smacking people in the trading floors or courtrooms or something, not walking into a fucking Maccy D’s at one in the morning.

Not that he’s complaining when it’s just making his job a heck lot more interesting and he can even boast to that asshole in the morning shift now - ha bet you don’t get hotties in fine suits in your shift _eh?_

But really, part of Eggsy just wants to know _what the fuck is going on._

He’s drawing patterns on the counter with the corner of a wet rag because there is no one at all in the restaurant as per usual, when the doors open with a loud _woosh_ and he looks up to see his favourite customer once more.

This time, there’s a young lady trotting in after him, looking rather confused as to their presence here, a confusion which she subsequently voices out. “What are we doing here?”

“Making a point. _”_ Harry says coolly, striding right up to the counter. “Also picking up my candidate."

The young woman gives him an exaggerated eye roll at that, mumbling something under her breath about how Tristan was right and they’ll never hear the end of it from Lancelot now and because of that Percival or something would kill them both.

Like the rest of the well-heeled company Harry seems to keep, she’s dressed in an impeccable, perfectly tailored suit and her tawny blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She seems warm and rather friendly, but then her heels, which are intimidatingly tall, click over the floor with a sharp clack and Eggsy somehow gets the feeling that she is in no way to be trifled with.  She strides over to the counter and sticks out a perfectly manicured hand.

“Hi, I’m Roxanne, but call me Roxy,” She smiles and Eggsy just takes her hand while nodding dumbly at her. She continues, “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”

Then she gives him a sympathetic look. “Sorry, by the way.”

“Merlin, could you do something about the security cameras? Yes, _yes_ I know, blame _Galahad,_ he just wants to show off for his boy, what can I do,” Roxy rattles off, her right hand resting lightly on her tortoise shell glasses. Harry’s doing some weird twirling thing with his umbrella and flexing his wrists as if he’s gearing up for something or other.

Eggsy just stares incredulously at the two of them.  

“Bedivere,” Harry _(Galahad???)_ scolds. “You are starting to sound an awful lot like your father now. It’s not really a good thing.”

 _“Oh?_ Which one?” Roxy _(Bedivere????)_ replies coolly.

 Harry considers her for a moment and then pulls a face. “...Both of them, actually. It’s rather terrifying.”

Okay, Eggsy really, _really_ wants to know what the fuck is going on - the last he checked, they were in the 21st century not stuck in the middle of an Arthurian legend.

“Oh look,” Roxy says and nods towards the doors. “They are finally here.”

He follows her gaze and his jaw nearly drops right off. It’s like a scene straight out from a bad action movie or those old spy movies, where a thousand ( _okay there’s more like 15, really_ ), thugs descend upon the hero at one go fully intent on wiping them out. Eggsy’s eyes go wide like saucers but Roxy and Harry just square their shoulders, stand side by side and face the approaching crowd head on.

Nothing fucking makes sense any more. He knows that sometimes the crowd that runs around these part aren’t the best of lots, but this isn’t some fancy store for robbing, it is a damn _macdonalds_. Then Eggsy remembers the odd hours and the "business trips", thinks of the suits and the strange way they seem to be talking to someone who's there but not there and the codenames and... everything clicks in his mind.  

Oh.

They're spies.

Okay.

_Okay what the **actual fuck?**_

Harry is whipping out his umbrella and wielding it expertly like a sword…with a hook. A hooked sword? Was that a _thing?_ He slides into the fray with it, bringing down the first fool to approach him by swinging the hooked end of the umbrella around his arm and snapping it, sending him crashing into a few others and bringing all of them to the ground. The way he fights is like dancing - all sharp, smooth, fluid movements as the destruction and damage unfurls around him like a flower. It’s all calculated, well-placed smacks, precise jabs and beautiful takedowns.

On her side, Roxy just very elegantly steps out of her heels, sweeps them up and propels the room like a flying stiletto of doom...quite literally so because a freaking blade extends from the heel and takes out two goons. She gracefully weaves her way through the fight, taking down two more of the goons with a solid roundhouse kick and a punch to the jaw, before stepping back into her heels as if she had never left them.

Then one of the thugs take out a gun and for a split second, Eggsy’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, but all Harry does is to drop to one knee and pop open the umbrella before him and the bullets ricochet harmlessly off the black umbrella. Holy hell, there is even a screen in the thing and then Harry twists the handle, the word on the screen changing according to 'STUN' and something fires at the man that incapacitates him immediately. 

That is _sick,_ Eggsy’s still very stunned mind thinks to itself from where the rest of him is gaping at the scene before him from behind the counter.

Between the two of them, they systematically take out all the thugs in the shop, but then there’s one more creeping from behind and Roxy’s busy dealing with the last two on the other side and Harry can’t see him coming from the angle that he is facing...

It only takes a split second for Eggsy to make a decision.

He grabs a tray, leaps over the counter in a single smooth motion and brings it down on the thug’s head with a satisfying crack. Down he goes. Eggsy stands back only to realise that both Roxy and Harry are staring at him - the former looks imrpessed and the latter...Harry looks so _proud_ that Eggsy feels a practically feels the warmth and happiness blooming in his chest.

“So...” Harry begins slowly and dramatically, straightening out his suit and placing his umbrella by his side, easily assuming the picture of the perfect gentleman once again.

“Eggsy Unwin...Let me tell you about Kingsman.” 

 

* * *

 

Four months later, on a warm, balmy Sunday afternoon, Eggsy Unwin is lying on the grass at the Kingsman HQ beside Harry, their hands interlinked as they stare up at the clouds in the bright blue sky.

"Do you like it here?" Harry asks. Here – here at the manor, here at Kingsman, here with _him._

Eggsy takes a moment to consider, then rolls onto his side to grin at Harry.

_“I’m lovin’ it.”_

 

* * *

 Come chat with me on [tumblr!](http://secondarysushicorps.tumblr.com/)

 

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: Yes, I am very proud of the last line.


End file.
